Taste
by merlintriss
Summary: He doesn't know if what he's doing will save her or not. DysonxKenzi (probably more friendship than Romance?) Rated M for blood/gore not sex.


**Quick one-shot plot-bunny conceived during a long class. Was going to be a chapter for another fic, but didn't fit right. So here it is. **

Dyson rolled over, groaning, as he tried to piece together his surroundings. He hadn't felt this way since the Berserkers had worked him over. Consciousness eluded him. A soft, feminine gasp was all it took to bring him to attention.

The cell was on the small side, with thick rock walls and a barred door. Kenzi would have called it medieval chic, and it did resemble something out of a castle. Dysons' memories were slow returning, and all he could remember was walking with Kenzi on a boardwalk while she tried to convince him to try butterscotch dipped ice cream.

_Kenzi_.

The sound had come from her, the small form curled up in a ball on the floor opposite him. He could pick up the metallic tang of her blood in the air. His own body aching, Dyson crawled to her.

"Kenz, Kenzi?" He softly shook her. "Come on girl." Kenzis' eyes fluttered, but she still remained unconscious. Dyson could hear the steady thrum of her heart beat; see the ragged rise and fall of her chest. He began to look her over, to find the source of her injury.

Kenzi was wearing her customary black jacket, a thin black tank top, short skirt and tights. The tank was completely soaked through with blood. Dyson peeled off the jacket. Absently, he looked it over. Kenzi was going to be pissed. The jacket was soaked along one side with her blood, a giant whole torn through the thick material. As Dyson shifted her body to remove the jacket, Kenzi moaned painfully.

Dyson ran his hand down her now bare arms in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. If he was going to be completely honest, he did better with pain when he was in his wolf form. It was easier to nuzzle that way.

He pulled her tank up, but even if he tried to do so gently, it was stuck to her skin with dried blood.

Dyson had seen a lot of battle wounds. He'd inflicted his fair share as well, more times than he cared to remember. He'd been a lone warrior for hundreds of years, a mercenary. Despite all of this, the wound on Kenzis' side enraged him.

The skin was puckered, fractured like broken porcelain, barely concealing the red tissue beneath. That someone could harm her, could break her delicate body…he was once again reminded of her fragility. Kenzi may have pretended to be tough, but she was a human in a Fae world. Dyson was suddenly comforted by Kenzi's unconsciousness, as it would be the only reprieve he could offer from the pain.

_Not the only reprieve. _

He felt the thought rather than thinking it, felt like a shiver running up his spine. It wouldn't have to come to that.

But he knew that it had. Kenzi was on the brink. He could hope that Bo would come in, guns a blazing to save them, with Lauren right behind her with some magic cure all for Kenzi, but there was no telling how far out they were. And Kenzi was not in a good place right now. She was stable, but Dyson had seen enough injuries to know that this was the calm before the storm.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He wasn't sure how she would take this, if she woke up. When she woke up. He was taking a choice from her, but he didn't see what options he had.

Bonding was not something to be taken likely. Even if, in this case, Kenzi was not his match. Even if he was simply adding her to his pack of one. Even then, it was a commitment he wasn't sure the tiny Russian would want. But he could not let her die.

_Was there enough of her left to save? _

He knew he had to try.

Dyson held her wrist to his mouth, his teeth slightly elongated enough so that he could puncture the flesh there, taking only as much as was absolutely necessary. Wolf shifters weren't vampires. It wasn't about the blood so much as the sharing.

His mouth still wet with her blood, he took his teeth to his own arm and split the vein open. Dripping his own blood across her body, he held his arm over her mouth, the fingers on his other hand slowly coaxing her to swallow. As she took in his essence, he started whispering in the words of the wolves, a chant. Back when he had been part of a pack, back when he had _brothers_, they had all chanted together, had all called for their deity to come down and bestow upon them the bonds of pack. It had been a surging, churning affair deep in the woods, the hum of a hundred voices calling out in unison for the bond.

But this was different. This was just him and her, just a cold cell, her heart beat ever fainter.

_It wasn't her time to die_.

The pulse of magic was slim at first, a sliver that traveled from his core to hers along the line of his hand. It was almost a feel of individual strands coalescing into a braid that connected the two of them. He could feel her heart beat now, feel her pain as if it was his own. But it also meant he could share.

Dyson lay down next to her, her body cradled against his chest. So small, his new tiny pack mate. He had enough to give. His energy, his life force, ebbed out of his own body and into hers. Bo would call it chi, would talk about sexual energy. But this wasn't so much sex as it was a connection, deeper than friends, deeper even than family. She was of his blood now, and he shared freely with her his own power.

It hurt. It would always hurt, but he had enough to give.

Her heartbeat grew stronger, and Kenzi began to stir. He coaxed her to sleep, not ready or willing to answer her questions about what had happened, not ready to end this moment. This was the closest he had been to his true nature in a very long time.

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